“You can’t lie to your soul.” - Irvine Welsh
The hardest thing to do is admit you regret a decision you’ve made. But if you don’t regret anything, there’s nothing to admit to.
(or- Ellie is living the perfect life. And then she gets an invitation.)
chapter 3- The engagement party continues, and there's a revelation, a conversation, and a terrible decision.
i TOLD u guys i get round to prompts, u just have to let me slow cook! this probs was the last way anyone would expect this prompt to go, but the two of them just sort of ran away from me, what can i say. hope u enjoy pal!!
48. dancing with each other
“This is a terrible idea, I’m definitely gonna get fired.”
The words are out, but Kate doesn’t mean them. Not really. Truthfully, she thinks this is the best idea she’s ever had. Opening shift on a Sunday is a graveyard slot for any bar, but in a bar that already gets about sub-twenty customers a week she feels like the grim reaper themself.
So it’s not her fault, really, that when Banksie messaged to ask how her Sunday was going Kate asked if they wanted to swing by the bar. And it’s really not her fault that she started giving Banksie their drinks on the house, because it’s not like anyone’s there to stop her. And if she decided to play 90s/00s bangers through the speakers after what’s maybe her third midday wine, she can’t be held accountable.
Inviting Banksie behind the bar to conduct an impromptu cocktail masterclass, however…yeah. She’ll take the blame for that. But in all fairness, it had been their suggestion. If Kate had been convinced by their siren grey-blue eyes and a flash of their diamond smile, that’s Banksie’s fault, not hers.
“You’re not gonna get fired! You’re such a goody two-shoes, Katherine,” Banksie follows up Kate’s joke-that-isn’t-a-joke, nudging her with their hip as Kate passes them the vodka. “Michael’s out, you said.”
“I know.”
“And this place doesn’t have CCTV, does it?”
Kate barks a laugh, sloshes some cranberry juice into her own mixer before leaning into Banksie and doing theirs. “It’s barely got terrestrial TV, babe.”
“See? So you’re good,” Banksie concludes, smiling at Kate through tipsy eyes and making her heart thump.
It still seems wild to Kate that they’re at this stage now. From being the regular that she’d been crushing on, to bumping into them on that disastrous “fact finding” trip Dede forced them all onto at the Kofi Shop, to them finding her on Instagram and messaging her the day after. They’ll both message back and forth of a day, Banksie sending her photos of their little rats, Kate sending them screenshots of whatever tweets she thinks would make them laugh, and none of this is doing anything at all to help Kate feel in any way platonic about her customer-turned-friend.
“What is it we’re making then, barkeep?” they ask, swirling the liquids in their cocktail shaker around suspiciously. “I’ve not been keeping track of these ingredients.”
“Christ, neither have I,” Kate admits, eliciting a howl of a laugh from Banksie.
“What kind of bartender are you?! Shocking. I’m reporting you to trading standards.”
“There are no standards in this bar,” Kate looks at them pointedly, knowing that last time they were here Banksie witnessed her pour the contents of the drip tray into a pint glass and tried to pass it off as a lager because she couldn’t be arsed going down to get a new keg.
Banksie doubles over laughing, tipsy and beautiful. “This is the worst masterclass I’ve ever been to!”
“More like a disaster class,” Kate shrugs, shoving the lid on both their shakers. “Right, you’re gonna pretend that shaker is someone you really don’t like.”
“Vicki,” Banksie says immediately, Kate spluttering a laugh at their immediate reference to their coworker.
“What’s she done this week?”
“Exist?” Banksie screws their face up, laughing at Kate’s immediate giggling fit and grabbing the shaker. “Okay, are we going on three?”
Kate counts them both down. “One…two…three!”
As if on cue, they both start yelling and shaking their unknown cocktails simultaneously, shouting obscenities over the clatter of the ice against the metal. Arms growing tired, Kate puts her shaker down first and is then immediately followed by Banksie, who is physically panting from the exertion. Kate does them a favour and pours both their cocktails out, which are pink in colour and strong-smelling.
She places two cocktail umbrellas into the top of them and hangs a lime off the rim. “Cheers, m’dear!”
Banksie clinks their glass with hers and a little bit sloshes over the rim before they both drink in tandem, the unusual taste settling on Kate’s tongue as she watches Banksie’s face go through a variety of reactions.
“Good?”
They raise their eyebrows. “Good! Alright! I think the tequila was a rogue shout but the orange juice mixed with the cranberry kind of tones it down.”
“Alright, Masterchef!” Kate laughs, sipping a bit more and getting used to it.
Banksie wiggles their shoulders a little, moving closer to her as they give her another little nudge. “I guess this wasn’t a total disaster. I mean, we made something drinkable, and I got to spend more time with you.”
Banksie may as well have been holding a defibrillator and slammed it against Kate’s chest. Their smile is shy and their words are sincere and Kate’s just thinking of the perfect flirtatious, charming, witty comeback when Banksie suddenly gasps at the music that’s coming through the speakers.
“Oh my GOD, turn that shit up! This was my jam in Year 2,” they cry, as the sound of Steps barges its way into the bar.
“It’s a classic, to be fair,” Kate concedes, obediently turning up the volume and watching as Banksie begins performing a line dance out of seemingly nowhere. “What is that?!”
Banksie stops for a moment, looking at Kate as if she’s on drugs. “Baby. Tell me you know the dance to 5, 6, 7, 8.”
“Is there a dance to 5, 6, 7, 8? I feel like you’ve just made that up,” Kate frowns at them, hoping Banksie’s pet name hasn’t actually lit her cheeks on fire.
“As if you don’t know this! Right, I have to teach you,” Banksie insists, showing Kate the moves step by step. Before long, the two of them have gun-fingered, swayed and fake-lassoed their way through the whole song, and they’re out of breath and crumpled by the time it’s over.
“You’re a natural, by the way,” Banksie compliments her, holding her hand out for a hi-five. Kate doesn’t quite know what she’s doing when she returns it and then interlocks their fingers, pulling them in for a hug.
“I’m having so much fun, by the way,” she says, simple and honest and in a way that they can read more into it if they’re willing.
So when Banksie pulls away slightly and looks at her with something sparkling in their eyes, Kate’s hopes and adrenaline spike.
“Is this a date?”
Kate lets the silence hang in the air for a moment.
“It can be. If you want.”
The air begins to charge with electricity as Banksie nods quietly. “Yeah. I think I do.”
They’re looking at each other and Kate smiles at them and Banksie takes one of Kate’s amber waves of hair and tucks it behind her ear. For a moment, everything seems to stand still before Kate looks down at their lips for only a split second-
And then the front door opens suddenly, making Kate jump in Banksie’s arms. They’re both a little too late to let go of each other, but when Kate takes in the sight of who’s just walked in, the feeling of guilt that’s just washed over her gets carried away on a tide of intrigue.
Tomara and Cara are standing in the doorway, both with massive pairs of sunglasses on and clutching Starbucks cups the size of their heads. Cara is the most dressed-down Kate’s ever seen her, and Tomara’s face is sickly pale and void of any makeup.
They look like shit.
“Hey,” Kate opens, taking a hand out from around Banksie’s waist and waving a little.
“Hey,” Tomara croaks out, walking slowly into the bar as if she’s been caught out. “What’re you two doing here?”
“It’s…it’s my shift? How come you’re in so early?” Kate narrows her eyes.
Banksie’s arm is still round her waist, and that fact makes her almost want to pass out.
“Is it not our shift? It says on the rota that we’re on open today.”
“I mean you’re on open…tomorrow?” Kate says, recalling what she’d seen on the rota. “Were you looking at the right day?”
“Fuck,” Cara says viscerally, looking at her phone screen in despair. “I swear today was the 12th?”
“Bit late for an opening shift, are you not, ladies?” Banksie pipes up cheekily, receiving a withering look from Cara in turn.
“Well aren’t we lucky you stepped in to cover for us!” she deadpans, her words coming out as a groan as if the very act of speaking is making her hangover worse.
There’s a momentary silence where Kate and Banksie slowly untangle themselves from each other awkwardly. Kate takes another silent sip out her drink before watching as Tomara shrugs off her heavy jacket.
“Isn’t that your t-shirt, Cara?”
Tomara looks down at the huge Ivy Park top she’s got on, then looks immediately to Cara with wide eyes.
“No,” they both say simultaneously.
Banksie snorts, and when Kate turns to them they share a little mischievous glance.
“What d’you say you guys come help me behind the bar and neither Michael nor Dede need know about any of the things any of us have witnessed so far this afternoon?” Kate claps her hands brightly, turning to Cara and Tomara and deciding to put everyone out of their misery.
“Deal,” Tomara says in an instant, sliding off her bar stool and swapping places with Banksie who dutifully returns to their place on the other side of the bar.
“So mean of you getting your partner to do back shift with you anyway, Kate,” Cara smirks, cocking an eyebrow at her and casting a glance to Banksie.
Kate’s momentarily, awkwardly, lost for words, but when her gaze falls on Banksie they’re grinning proudly at her. “She was actually conducting an amazing cocktail masterclass. You guys should start advertising it. Might bring up your customers from five to eight.”
“Five, six, seven, eight,” Kate says unfunnily, but it still gets a snort out of them.
The rest of the day is spent drinking pints of water to try and return herself to a somewhat sober state, pulling her back from the tipsy brink she’d very nearly teetered off of. It’s only when Banksie pulls her into a hug over the bar as they leave and kisses her cheek that Kate realises she’d never denied the fact that Banksie was her partner.
